


Five times Loki died and the one time he didn't

by Dewsparkle



Series: Little Stories of the Avenging Kind [16]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awesome Frigga (Marvel), Gen, Immortality, Implied Death, Injury, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mother-Son Relationship, Not Really Character Death, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Protective Frigga (Marvel), Rape, Rape Aftermath, Suicidal Thoughts, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-05-07 09:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14668394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewsparkle/pseuds/Dewsparkle
Summary: Loki has died many times throughout his long life, but nothing seems to stick, despite his trying to. He had seen no reason not to continue searching for a way to make the death permanent, until someone catches him in the act and convinces him otherwise.(Previously titled "Five times Loki died and the one time someone stopped him")





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been an idea bouncing around in my head for a while and having just finished a Uni assignment, my sleep-deprived brain decided to write this. Hope its okay :)

The first time Loki thinks he died, that he can recall, he was but a young boy only just entering adolescence. He does not remember what happened very clearly, but he does know it was because of Thor they were in the situation in the first place.

His brother had come to him, dragged him from his books and told him of his grand plan to gather a rare herb for Mother that she had been speaking of, but was supposedly guarded by some manner of creature. Loki, foolish, wanting to make his brother and Mother proud had agreed after some convincing.

Here is where Loki’s memory starts to get hazy. He remembers, vaguely, sneaking out of the palace and walking through a deep forest and partway up a mountain connected by a sheer cliff into a ravine below. He can recall the burn in his lungs as he struggled to keep up, his slighter frame making it difficult to keep up with his already muscling elder brother. He remembers asking to stop and rest, only for Thor to laugh and taunt him despite the fact Loki was visibly trembling with exhaustion, naturally pale skin having lost more colour, sweat gathering at his brow.

So they continued on, Loki struggling with all his might to keep up, nursing his hurt deep inside at Thor’s dismissiveness and the lack of care for the state of his younger and smaller brother.

The next thing Loki can recall, is desperately sprinting away from a creature much, much larger than they were. Thor’s arm is slashed and his sword lost, Loki’s leather tunic is shredded and his chest is throbbing, trickling with sticky warmth. The beast roars, its screech makes his ears ring and his vision tilts. He stumbles over an exposed tree root and falls, hard, onto the ground. He hears Thor call out and a giant paw lands on his left leg, crushing it under the immense weight, one long talon stabbing into and through his back to meet the hard dirt below him.

He remembers screaming, the weight being lifted, and Thor pulling him to his feet before they were once again running. The crushed bone in his leg grinds with sickening crunches as he puts weight onto the limb, one hand around Thor’s shoulder and the other holding his bleeding front.

He remembers seeing the cliff ahead, feeling the vibrations through the soil as the beast thundered close behind. He remembers a clawed paw backhanding him and his brother. The blow hit Loki first, sending him and Thor forward. There was a moment of agony as he sails forward. Thor had slid and caught himself on the edge of the cliff, but Loki and been thrown so forcefully that even if he had been in full health, he would have had no chance to save himself.

Loki remembers falling, the rushing in his ears and the pain of his wounds. His vision blackens, and he thinks he remembers the pinpricks of trees suddenly being very large then-

Nothing.

Loki remembers waking blearily, his body all at once a fire of agony and numb nothingness. He couldn’t move for the pain of it, breath rattling in his crushed chest. The arm he can see is horrifically bent out of shape and he imagines the rest of him is in a similar state. He remembers looking up and seeing a blob of green canopy before the nothingness takes him again.

Next time he wakes, it is too the worried face of Mother, her warm hands grasping one of his as he lay in the healing halls. Later, when the pain allowed him to think more clearly, he heard the healers discussing his injuries and wondering how he had survived such a fall with the wounds he had already sustained. Thor had gotten away from the encounter with shallow cuts into his back and a broken arm, among a few bruises and mild scrapes.

Loki had been confined to the healing halls for a week before he was able to make the journey back to his chambers, where he spent the next weeks recovering.

And that was only the first of many times Loki had such intimate... brushes with death. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out a lot longer than I thought it would. I hope it's alright though, I had trouble writing some of it and there are parts I'm a bit meh about or a bit unhappy with, but couldn't figure out how to fix. Hope you enjoy whats to come! ;) 
> 
> I would also like to add that in the previous chapter Loki would have been around the human equivalent of about 8-9 (with Thor around 15), while in this chapter he'd be around 11. 
> 
> CHAPTER WARNING for descriptions of rape and birth.

The second time Loki dies, and this time he is sure he must have, it was only a handful centuries after the first time.

There was a Builder who came to Asgard, claiming he could finish building their wall… or maybe it was do the whole thing? Loki can’t remember, but he does know it was within a ridiculously short amount of time, though Loki can not exactly remember how long, only that it should have been impossible and that all were appalled at the Builders price should he complete the wall within the time frame.

Loki has trouble remembering how it started, he had still not yet completely entered adolescence, he was still so young and growing into himself. He remembers his father and the council starting to seriously worry when the Builder and his horse were constructing the wall alarmingly fast, a rate at which they would finish the wall by the time limit. All attempts to stop the Builder or delay him so far had failed and they were getting desperate.

Loki, being his stupid young self, wanting to prove he was useful had suggested that they target the Builders horse, as the horse seemed to do a lot while the Builder was not present. Unfortunately for Loki, it was probably one of the worst times he could have offered such a suggestion.

Suddenly, Loki was being tasked with stopping the Builder under pain of… well, pain, in the form of several public whippings with no treatment for the wounds, which could very easily lead to serious infection and permanent restriction of movement if they failed to heal correctly, especially with his younger age, which they would of course be unlikely to do without assistance from a Healer.

Loki had tried to plead with his father that he didn’t know how to stop the Builder. He’d only just started his combat training and had only learnt a few spells that he could use in a fight, but certainly not enough to hold his own against a fully-grown man who looked to also be using some form of magic to speed along his building. Odin had ignored him at first, then told him in no uncertain terms to complete his duty to Asgard and earn his place or face the consequences.

Earn his place as if… as if he wasn’t already one of them.

Hearing that, Loki quite frankly panicked. He’d always been different, an outcast. His lithe, stick-like body refused to bulk like every other male Aesir by his age, making him appear weaker and forcing him to fight harder to build up his strength with muscles that could take the strain, but refused to show it. Then there was his practice of seidr, a womanly art that had many sneering in disgust, offended by the cowardly, honorless practice and his seemingly implied rejection of the ways of a true warrior of the royal house of Odin.

In short, Loki had quickly become, and was desperate. Desperate to prove himself, desperate to avoid the harsh punishment that would follow should he fail, desperate to prove his brother and Thor’s friends wrong. So, with only a day and a half left until the deadline, Loki did the only thing he could think of to distract the stallion from its duty.

Loki crept out of the palace that night and shifted himself into a mare, casting an enchantment to simulate the pheromones produced when a mare was in heat. He made his way to where the stallion was working on the wall, nervous and more than a little terrified because this was literally as far as his plan went beyond “distract the horse long enough to cause a delay”.

Almost instantly, the stallion caught scent of the simulated pheromones and abandoned its work, turning towards Loki. Time seemed to stand still as Loki and the horse stared at each other, before the horse charged. Wild eyed, Loki turned and fled as fast as he could. His enchantment failed not long after, his concentration lost from trying to keep his distance from the horse chasing him down, but the stallion didn’t seem to care and kept galloping after Loki-the-mare.

Loki is unsure how long he ran, but he knows he ran as hard and as fast as he could for a long time. His body was trembling, covered in sweat and his muscles ached, but he pushed on. The stallion looked far better off than he did, and Loki’s fear grew into terror as he found himself losing ground as he tired.

Branches whipped by him, scratching and tearing at his skin, rocks and sticks digging into his hooves as he wove through tree roots and tore through the forest, trying to get away long enough to shift back into himself and hide in a tree or, or _something_.

But it was no use. With every passing minute, Loki grew more and more exhausted, stumbling and tripping until his hoof caught over a large tree root he’d desperately tried to jump, sending him tumbling to the ground with a snap that would have made the blood drain from his face had he been in his Aesir skin.

The stallion was upon him almost instantly, despite Loki’s attempts to get up, to _get away_. It still looked no worse for ware, and Loki dreaded to even think it had simply been toying with him, waiting for him to tire or make a mistake.

One of his front legs was a mass of sharp, throbbing pain, obviously broken and _useless_. He couldn’t get up and he couldn’t _get away_. The stallion bit and kicked at him when he tried to struggle away, but the horse was undeterred as it swiftly mounted him and began to have its way with his body. 

Loki screamed and cried and begged for help, but he was a _horse_ , trapped inside his _cursed_ horse body with a broken leg and exhaustion so deep he could barely find the strength to move anymore, let alone fight back as he should, as he desperately wanted- _needed_ to. The pain was unbearable, the sensations foreign and confusing and disgusting and terrifying and, and _violating_.

Over and over and over and over and _over and over_ the stallion pushed inside of him, biting bloody marks into his back and hindquarters, hooves bruising and cutting his flanks with their sharpness from holding him down and from the movement that was so, so _wrong and please oh Norns make it stop, father, mother, Thor, save me, **end** me, Mamma, Papa make it stop, please, **please make it stop**_.

Then it was suddenly over. A horrid warmth spilling inside him and then the stallion was gone, after getting a few more bites and kicks in for good measure. Loki lay sprawled on the forest floor, panting and trembling with exhaustion and pain. He was bleeding all over and from… he shuddered, _back there_ and he couldn’t move, and he didn’t _want_ to move ever again. He… he couldn’t fully comprehend what had just happened and he didn’t want to and… and he wanted his Mamma so badly it hurt, Loki felt the small child he still was deep inside rear his head and force a wretched sob to escape his throat as he finally, _finally¸_ managed to shift back into himself.

Everything hurt so much worse as he curled around his broken arm and sobbed quietly into the slowly lightening hours of the morning. He didn’t bother trying to get up again, simply letting himself succumb into darkness.

When he next woke the sun was once again making its way into the sky. Loki struggled to sit himself up, finding that his broken arm had healed itself, thankfully, but he knew he had been unconscious for a few days at the very least. He… he also didn’t understand why he hadn’t been found and brought back home by now, surely Heimdall could see him? Loki felt himself pale. Heimdall would have _seen_ him be… be… he couldn’t even think the word, because to use the word would be to admit it had happened. But maybe that was why. The Gatekeeper had told his family and they were so ashamed by his failure that they just left him here, wherever here was, and didn’t want him to return.

Feeling his eyes stinging once again, Loki tries to stand but his body wouldn’t let him, still too exhausted, but also… something felt off. Wrong. He didn’t feel right in his skin in a way that was unfamiliar. It wasn’t the same sensation he got the initial time he shifted into a new form when he was just figuring it out for the first time, it was something else. Something different.

As Loki tried to figure out what was wrong, his magic rippled painfully throughout his entire body and he felt himself shifting involuntarily until he was once again a black mare. Panicked, he tried to shift back but his magic wouldn’t allow it, but the feeling of wrongness had faded now, only the feeling of something else inside him. He cast his magic about himself to find the cause, only to freeze when he did.

No. No, no, no, _no,_ **_NO!_** It couldn’t be, no he can’t be, not after everything he’d been through, why did the Norns hate him so? He was with child.

The next months for Loki are a blur of desperation, loneliness, fear, pain and an encompassing sense of numbness. No-one came for him, not one member of his family tried to contact him in any way. He doesn’t know if the wall had been finished in time or not, and he just can’t bring himself to care, not after everything that happened to him because of it.

He’s stuck in the form of a mare, his abilities have long since refused to allow him to change back to his true form in order to protect him from harm, with his belly swelling quickly and heavily with child as time goes on. Loki’s existence has been whittled down to a handful of simple truths by this point and what came before feels like a nice dream that he woke up from to his nightmare of a reality.

Loki knows that he’s always tired and he’s always afraid. He’s always looking for shelter and he’s always hungry. He’s always thirsty and always avoiding any creatures that might do him and the child harm. He’s always feeling ill and he’s always abandoned and he’s always, _always_ alone.

Well, he supposes, almost alone. He can feel the babe with him all the time, feel as it slowly but swiftly grows and forms inside him. He feels it move, feels it kick and protest when he can’t force himself to eat enough on his worse days or simply can’t find enough food.

The heavier the swell of his belly gets, sometimes, late into the night, Loki wonders about the child he carries within him. Will it be a curse on Loki’s life like its… father was? Or will it be more like Loki? Will it be neither? Or will it be like any other horse baring the circumstances of its conception and birth?

Loki doesn’t know but sometimes he wonders and sometimes he hates himself because he wonders why he protects the child, wonders why he didn’t abort it somehow and go back home to his Mamma where she would know how to make this all go away just like when he was smaller and toddling after her skirts.

He has trouble doing anything when he thinks about that, because he would never harm a child. Especially not for such a selfish reason as wanting to escape his shame and weakness. He would never harm it just because of the way it was conceived. Wouldn’t that be cowardly? He doesn’t know anymore, he’s so lost and _alone_. He’s already been so weak by letting _it_ happen, wouldn’t it be weaker to not be able to carry the child because of his weakness? He’s so confused.

Now Loki is walking restlessly and wearily around his newest shelter. He feels hot, sweat matting his hair to his neck and flanks. He finds himself unable to decide if he wants to stand up or just lay down, moving up and down between the two positions constantly.

His swollen belly and the shifting babe are making him more uncomfortable than usual and he’s just feeling so exhausted and inexplicably anxious for no reason he can pinpoint in his tired mind. He’s been like this for the past few hours and has frustratingly lost control of his bladder and bowels at least twice that he can remember, and not to mention his mare genitals have been making him feel strange and even more uncomfortable for the past couple days.

He doesn’t know what any of this is and Loki starts to worry that he’s sick, or the babe is sick. All he knows is something is wrong, and he can’t figure out what it is to fix it. It’s not until hours later that he realizes what’s happening.

He feels something inside him… _shift_ and then suddenly there’s this gush of wetness that expels from him, splashing onto the grass and trickling down his hind legs. Loki’s breathing increases in panic because he may not know much about anything to do with giving birth, but he does know that this is his water breaking, like stable hands had once spoken about as he was getting ready for a ride.

No even a minute later the contractions start and it _hurts,_ oh how it _hurts_. He whines and cries inside his mind, noises of distress falling uncontrolled from his lips, the painful clenching of his abdominal muscles rippling through his skinny frame and making his legs tremble with the effort to stand. It seems to go on forever, and at some point he slips onto the ground laying on his side with his back to a large tree, trying to ride out the pain and not knowing what he was supposed to do. He’s never seen what happens when a foal is birthed. He doesn’t know what to _do._

He’s scared. He hurts and he’s so very scared and he wants his Mamma to hold him and take the pain away and for Papa and Thor to protect him from everything else.

The babe shifts inside him and it feels like its pushing to get out and Loki suddenly wants it _out_ and _gone_ from inside him so badly that he strains with all his remaining energy to _push_ the babe from his body. His legs extend outward as he does and he _screams_ through the agony of it as the foal pushes further through the birth canal and stretches past muscles that don’t seem ready for the size of the thing they’re supposed to be expelling.

He feels things inside him tear the longer it goes, but everything already hurts so he doesn’t really notice. Loki’s panting and he’s shaking, trembling with fear and pain and exhaustion as his muscles clench and release, clench and release, clench and release. He looks back at himself at some point and sees a mess of fluids everywhere, mixed with his blood and a red bag of… something. He can sort of make out the shape of the torn white bag he can half see that he’s pretty sure the foal must be in. He thinks he can see a tiny, spindly leg through bleary eyes and not much else, before he throws his head back and strains to push once again.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but at last he feels blessedly _empty_ of the great pressure inside him. He huffs out a strained breath, partially in relief, but feeling so lightheaded and dizzy. He looks back and the foal is laying in the white bag, and Loki doesn’t think its moving. He doesn’t think its breathing because don’t foals normally move really soon after birth? _Why isn’t it moving?_

There’s warm blood pooling against him as it steadily trickles out of his abused body. He’s so tired. All these months of suffering and fear and pain and loneliness for _nothing_ because he’s so weak and useless that he’s killed this babe before it had the chance to see the world. He had wanted the foal to live, had wanted to know it despite its conception and the horrible months Loki spent carrying it. But now he won’t ever even get to see it open its eyes or make its first noise… because Loki is weak and a _failure_.

Loki’s vision is dark and he’s dizzy, breathing takes so much effort and he can feel his struggling and taxed heart beating slower and slower. The effort it takes to expand his diaphragm is so exhausting and he just wants to sleep, sleep and never wake up.

Loki can feel himself slipping away, his heart faltering and failing from the strain of the birth, the bleeding, lack of proper care for months and his lack of sufficient nutrients. His will to fight and to live is gone, any sense of purpose he may have convinced himself he had died with his failure to the foal he’d been forced to carry.

Suddenly Loki can’t remember the last time he inhaled and then his heart just kind of… _stops_ and he fades away into nothingness.

There’s a soft, distressed noise that breaks into the sudden fog of barely there awareness of Loki’s brain and he’s so confused because why…? The sound seems like it should be important, but Loki doesn’t… Something soft bumps into his face, the noise growing more distressed the longer he doesn’t respond. He hears shuffling of limbs and feels the warm puff of air across his face from whatever made the noise.

Loki blinks his eyes open half-mast with effort and sees a tiny muzzle snuffling his face and soft whickering. He makes a weak, soft noise back at it in response, because it sounds so sad, and instantly the foal is pressed against his side and licking his jaw.

Blinking his eyes open wider, Loki finds himself ensnared by two beautiful hazel horse eyes framed by a slim face, attached to a spindly body covered in black hair. Which, bizarrely, has _eight legs_.

The foal nickers happily now that Loki is awake and gets up on wobbly limbs, somehow managing to stand even though it shouldn’t be able to with so many limbs and their muscles crammed together but it- _he_ does, doing a little dance that instantly has Loki falling in love with the newborn foal.

_Sleipnir_ , his mind tells him in that moment of realization. _You will be my Sleipnir and I will take care of you_.

Taking a deep breath to prepare to get to his feet, wondering how when he could have sworn- no, he _knows_ he stopped breathing and that his heart ceased beating. Not to mention he’d been bleeding too much to have survived. He knows he should be dead, knows that he _was_ dead, but he can’t have been because he’s alive and while Aesir may be long lived and heal fast, they can still die just as easily in the right circumstances.

He pushes himself up on thin legs, ribs pressing against his skin. Sleipnir instantly goes under him for a teat and begins to suckle what little milk Loki was able to produce.

He stays as a mare for a couple days more, trying to eat as much as he could so Sleipnir could have a decent feed, but once Loki feels ready, he shifts back into himself for the first time in many, many long months.

Sleipnir turns around and sees him standing there. He freezes in place, wide eyed and looks around for Loki-the-mare. Loki makes a soft clicking noise with a voice that croaks from lack of use. Sleipnir’s ears perk and his head tilts quizzically. He walks over, eight legs working together seamlessly and never having tripped him any more than a foal’s legs normal would. He sniffs Loki’s face before nickering happily and butting his head against Loki’s chest, prancing in a small circle around him.

Loki’s heart instantly swells with such affection and love, because Sleipnir still recognizes him as his mother. Seeing what Loki managed to bring into the world, despite the circumstances of how it came to be in to be in the first place, Loki can almost forget the nightmare of reality before Sleipnir was born.

So, as is the nature of everything good that has ever happened to Loki, it comes to an end.

Nearly two weeks after the birth, and only a scant few days since Loki returned to his natural form, the Allfather arrives with a small group of guards that shadow him out of hearing range of normal conversation.

This bit is muddled in Loki’s head, later, and he doesn’t really remember what was said. What Loki does know is that the Allfather had spoken to him coldly and informed him of the shame he has brought to his family and to Asgard. Loki discovers the Builder had indeed not made the deadline, but it was a near thing. Loki remembers being called unnatural, remembers _Sleipnir_ being called unnatural.

He remembers the Allfather saying it would be best to put the foal to death. Loki remembers crying and begging and screaming for his father to spare his life. He remembers that Odin’s cold expression had become just a bit strained before he relented, announcing that Sleipnir would be trained as his new steed.

Loki had thanked his father, trembling at his feet on his knees, when he also stipulated that once the foal was placed in its new stables, Loki would be forbidden to see him, or the punishment would be severe. A sob had torn from Loki’s throat, but he nodded, it was better that his Sleipnir lived.

Loki’s remembers walking alongside Sleipnir as they followed Odin and the guards back to the palace, remembers that he had kept a hand on his sons neck the whole way. He remembers Sleipnir being led away to his new stable and then feeling lost.

What was he supposed to do without Sleipnir with him at all times? He doesn’t remember. Eventually, at some point, his mother comes and guides him away from where he’d been standing, unmoving since Sleipnir had been lead away.

She takes him to his rooms and sits him on the bed. Loki thinks she had been speaking, but he doesn’t know for sure. She had left and returned an unknown amount of time later and lead him to the bath, stripping him of his clothes like when he had been small and unable to do it himself, and sat him in the warm water.

She had knelt next to the tub and carefully washed his hair and his body, frowning at the faint stretch mark on his stomach. She speaks to him, about what he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t say anything. She lifts him from the bath when he can’t get his legs to work and dries him in a lavender scented towel, dressing him in warm sleep clothes and laying him down under the covers of his bed.

She strokes his hair as Loki stares into nothing. He had stroked Sleipnir’s hair too. He had started to cry as he thought of his son and what he’d been through, and his Mamma had pulled him into her arms and rocked him, her sweet voice whispering meaningless reassurances in his ear until he finally succumbed to his months of exhaustion.

In the months following, Loki remembers almost nothing of them. He didn’t leave his room, casting nasty spells at his brother until he got the message that forcibly trying to remove him from his chambers was a bad idea. He sometimes ate, but not much. Odin came by, once, to see Loki sitting of his bed and staring listlessly into space before leaving. His mother was a frequent visitor, sitting with him and coaxing him to talk about Sleipnir and what happened.

He doesn’t respond much to the latter questions.

When the world comes back to him, he perfects hiding himself and his rooms from Heimdalls’ Sight and goes in search of Sleipnir. Any rare chance he could, he would find his child in secrecy and sit with him, arms around his strong neck and face buried in his mane. Sleipnir grew larger than a normal horse rather quickly, and soon Loki would catch a glimpse of Odin riding his little Sleipnir and he would have to retreat to his rooms to expel the contents of his stomach.

Loki was never able to look at his father the same way after all of that. Loki blames Odin and the Builder for what happened to him, but mostly Odin because he took his baby away from him. Loki will never forgive him for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note, I based the birthing process on what a mare would go through during an actual foaling using two sites I'll link below. 
> 
> Also, just as a fun fact, the "red bag" mentioned is the placenta, which provides nutrients from the mother for the foal. It can be very dangerous if that comes out first, the foal could be deprived of oxygen and such, but if pieces of the bag are broken off inside the mare it can lead to infection. The "white bag" is the sack the foal is in, normally it breaks during the birth but sometimes an attendant needs to gently tear it open and leave a clear area for the foal to breathe. I also found that it's important to let the red bag be expelled naturally for the above reasons for the health of the mare and foal.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed? :)
> 
> Sources:  
> https://thehorse.com/124062/know-the-stages-of-mare-labor/  
> https://www.horsetalk.co.nz/2012/10/17/foaling-in-mares/  
> https://www.horseillustrated.com/horse-health-red-bag-delivery/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that took me a while. Sorry for the wait! Uni started up again recently and, well, you get the picture. Also, ya girl is officially an adult now! Yeet, I can legally drink! Alcohol doesn't taste nice, but I'm now allowed to drink it and that's all the matters! xD
> 
> And a huge thank you to everyone who's reading this, it really makes me happy to know someone likes/is reading my writing! :D
> 
> Anyway, this one is just about as long as the last, which was again completely unintentional, but eh, it works. *shrugs* This also hasn't been properly proof-read because I'm tired and can't be bothered right now. If there are any mistakes, please feel free to point them out. I'll go back over this sometime tomorrow and fix up stuff that I see, but I'll probably miss something. 
> 
> In this chapter, Loki is about the equivalent of a 12-13 year old (probably more on the 13 side?) and Thor would be around 17- 18. And, uh, CHAPTER WARNING for... descriptions of injury/gore? I mean, I don't THINK it's that bad, I'm pretty sure the descriptions last chapter were worse, but better to be safe, right?
> 
> (P.S. I'm shit at fight scenes, send help.)

The third time Loki remembers dying, it was when his brother and his four lackies had left him on Muspelheim after a hunt gone wrong.

Once again Thor had decided that his “glorious adventure” was more important than the two princes collectives studies, especially since Loki was in the middle of learning to master casting spells without needing to say any incantations, simply using his will to shape his seidr’s purpose into what he desires it to do. So far, he’d had no trouble at all with his illusions and spells of concealment. Moving objects gave him a little more trouble, but he was able to easily apply his new skills to this as well. Conjuring, summoning and transforming things was what was giving him the most trouble.

Without the extra focus the crutch incantations and spells created, it was proving more difficult for him to accomplish. Loki knew that he would be able to do this soon enough and overcome his current challenges, but it would take time, effort and dedication to get to the point where these things could be done as second nature, much like casting illusions and moving things with nary a thought were to him now.

He’d been meditating for the past four hours, centering himself and his seidr, gently coaxing it to change the small stone in front of him into sand. He was starting simple, taking small, easy objects and changing them into something similar. After all, sand was similar to a crushed stone.

So of course, as he was halfway through finally managing to do just that, when his wards went off and his brother burst into his chambers shouting for him, breaking his concentration. The stone split down the middle and shattered, smoldering as his seidr reacted to his sudden and violent lapse in concentration, suddenly finding itself without guidance.

Gritting his teeth in anger, Loki turned to glare icily at his oaf of a brother, who paid no heed to his younger brother’s expression.

“ _What_ do you want, Thor?” Loki sneered, standing from his cross-legged position on his rug. His side gave an unpleasant twinge as he stood, but he paid it no mind. He was used to it by now. There was no physical reason for the twinge to be there, but Loki had felt it all the same ever since he had returned with his Sleipnir.

His brother beamed at him, seemingly oblivious to his brother’s foul mood. “We’re going on a quest, brother! We will defeat a beast and bring home its horns as a trophy to our glory!”

“And why exactly does that require you blundering into my chambers and interrupting my studies?”

“Why, because you are going to accompany us! You spend too long with your books. You will turn as soft as a maiden if I allow this to continue! We must hone your strengths as a proper warrior!”

Sighing with frustration, Loki didn’t even bother trying to correct Thor’s words, knowing from many past experiences it was an exercise in frustration and futility. “No thank you, Thor. I won’t be accompanying you. I’m busy and have no wish to go with you and your friends on another pointless hunt.”

Unexpectedly, instead of frowning like he normally would, Thor merely smiled like he knew something Loki didn’t. “I think not, brother. I have already asked father and he approves of our quest. He wishes you to join us. He too fears you are neglecting your duties are a warrior and has commanded you to join me on this hunt.”

Loki could only stare at Thor’s pleased expression, fury and a mingling of fear bubbling inside his breast. Of course, now Loki would be forced to come, least he face the wrath and disappointment of his father. Loki was very careful not to give Odin any reason to take more severe measures to ensure Loki did as he wished, not after what happened last time Odin commanded him to do something.

The fear and desperation of those months still haunts Loki’s dreams and has had him pausing to compose himself in the daylight hours many times. Often times, he is able to sneak away to visit his son to soothe his nerves, but when he can’t and either his mother is unavailable, or he is unwilling to bring it up and burden her with his weakness again, he suffers in silence until he can reign in his weakness.

If Odin thought he needed to go on this quest because he wasn’t proving himself a competent warrior anymore, Loki needed to do as he was told or the consequences in the future could end very badly for him, or… shudder the thought, his _son_.

Sighing in resignation, Loki began to pack up the materials he’d just been using. “Fine. When are you leaving?”

Thor’s face lit up with smug triumph, giving Loki a hearty slap on the back that was entirely too forceful. If Loki has been any younger, the blow would have sent him stumbling forward. “We leave in two hours! I will see you at the Bifrost.”

And with that, the oaf left Loki alone in his rooms once again. Why did this always happen to him? Why could no one just let him be?

Two hours later found Loki standing at the Bifrost awaiting Thor to arrive, his four friends already there and waiting for their prince. Their satchels were small, almost too small, to be carrying enough supplies for a quest of any kind. Loki had packed everything he thought he might need, seeing as his brother had neglected to mention how long their trip would be. Essentials were split between his bag and his pocket dimension to maximize how much he could take, but it wasn’t as much as he would have liked, having only been given two hours’ notice to prepare himself.

Thor arrives soon after, late as he often always is, and they are off to Muspelheim. Instantly, the heat is crippling in its intensity, and Loki has to take a moment to prevent himself from expelling his lunch at the abrupt increase in temperature. Once he is able, he casts a charm to try and shield him from the worst of the heat, but even with it, Loki’s very bones feel like they are melting under the unforgiving temperatures this realm creates.

Thor, Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg on the other hand, seem bothered by the heat but not as much as Loki is clearly feeling. With effort, he manages to school his reaction to the heat, instead paying more attention to where Thor has just taken them. Thor had _not_ said the beast they were questing for was on Muspelheim of all places!

“Thor, you did not tell me we were coming to _Muspelheim_!” He hissed, sweat dripping off his brow and down his neck. “Father could not have agreed to this, surely!”

Thor merely smiles, adjusting his grip on Mjolnir. “Father said we could go on a quest to slay a beast, I simply just didn’t tell him which realm I planned to find that beast. Surely you would approve of this, Loki? Is concealing the truth and twisting words not what you are so fond of doing?”

Loki growled. “I use my wit and words where brute force can be avoided because I am not a senseless barbarian. What you have done is put us all in danger! There is a reason we do not travel to Muspelheim! The Fire Giants are far superior to us in their homeland, they will burn us nearly as surely as the Jotunn!”

Sif rolled her eyes. “Loki, we know you prefer your womanly pursuits, but there is no need to complain like a whining babe. A true warrior wouldn’t turn away from a fight just because there is a bit of challenge.”

The others snicker as she smirks condescendingly at him, before turning and following Thor in whatever direction they are headed. Loki kept his expression blank and grits his teeth. Had they not been in such a dangerous environment, he would have shown her just exactly what happens when someone insults him so.

Loki follows slightly behind the rest of the group, secretly hurt at Sifs words. She’d said he was a coward and agar without outright stating the words, thus avoiding true consequence. They walk for hours through the intense heat, and Loki is having increasing difficulty keeping up with their pace. His skin is burning and his lungs feel swollen. He thinks the skin on his hands and cheeks might be blistering, but its hard to tell and his sweat does nothing to help cool him down in the hot wind.

Panting silently, Loki examines his companions and is confused to find they don’t seem to be suffering as much as he is, despite his use of numerous spells to try and cool himself down. They’re sweating, skin a little pink, and reaching for their water more often than what is normal on a quest, but they look otherwise fine. They talk and laugh with each other, paying minimal attention to their surroundings and sparing not a single glance back to check on their second prince, who has said nothing since the exchange where the Bifrost touched down.

If the heat wasn’t making him so lightheaded, Loki might have had more energy to question why only he seemed to be truly suffering in this infernal heat.

So, of course, after another hour of walking across boiling stone and past pools of flame and gnarled ‘trees’ oozing lava, is when they finally encounter the beast Thor and his followers were hoping to make a trophy of.

The creature is large, perhaps the size of a Midgardian elephant, if they were red like hot stone with cracked skin that flames burnt from. The creature had multiple sharp ridges down its spine. Its eyes were burning like blue fire and smoke was released with every exhale. With each step the creature took, the hot ground hissed in protest.

Loki panted out a breath and adjusted himself into a fighting stance, a dagger appearing in each hand. Ruthlessly Loki pushed aside the dizziness and focused past the slightly greyed edges of his vision. He cast yet another cooling charm and readied himself.

The fire beast charged at their group, growling and making a ruckus as it did so. Surprisingly, it was rather easy to dispatch. It attempted to spit something molten looking at Hogun and swipe Fandral’s side, but a blow from Mjolnir to its temple caved its head in with ease.

Everyone but Loki paused and stared down at the creature.

“Well, that was… disappointingly simple.” Fandral remarked. It seemed, however, that the blonde had spoken too soon. Loki looked past the group that was currently trying to harvest the still hot corpse of the beast, to see at least seven more approaching, hissing footsteps making their presence known. Then, suddenly what looked like another ten joined.

“Behind you!” Loki managed to call out, casting a shield just in time to stop a molten ball from slamming into Thor. As one, the others leapt around to face the new threat. Thor laughed, grinning from ear to ear.

“Finally, a challenge!” His brother exclaimed. Loki felt his eyes widen in horror as he saw more of the creatures approaching over the hills and around the rocks and geysers of flame.

“Thor! We must leave! There are too many of them! We are at too great a disadvantage!” Loki yelled out as loud as he could, hot breath catching in his heat swollen lungs, causing his gut to churn with nausea and his head to spin anew.

“Only cowards run from such a worthy battle, brother!” Was his only reply, a fiercer blow than the scrape of the claw against his arm as Loki struggle to stay upright and fight the two beasts converging on him. His vision was grey, and his blood sizzled where it had been cut, thankfully not bleeding as it had closed from the burning heat, cauterized it just as it was created.

Hissing, Loki threw a dagger into the eye of the closest beast, ducking low and sliding along the scalding ground to slice through the soft underbelly of the second. Boiling hot blood sprayed across his face, burning and blistering where it stuck to his skin instantly like hot oil. Loki couldn’t help the shout of pain he let out, desperately summoning his seidr to remove it from his skin.

Quickly regaining his footing, Loki had just enough time to see Volstagg’s arm get swiped and Sif knocked to the ground, impaling the beast with her spear and shoving it to the side, before he was tackled to the ground, talon-like claw stabbing him barely below his collarbone and just missing his vulnerable neck.

The heat burned through his blood and felt like razors jabbing his very bones as it spread through his body with each pump of his erratically beating heart. Loki screamed. A concussive force of cold was forced from his body without conscious thought, killing the beast on top of him and the other five that had been nearest to him.

Dizzily, Loki heard Hogun and Fandral calling for a retreat, blurrily watching as Sif and the injured Volstagg forcefully grabbed Thor and dragged him away. He tried to call out, but all that came out was a rasping wheeze and a gurgle of hot blood on his lips. He wonders why, but another beast is already looming over him, another talon stuck in his side and spreading more of the burning throughout his veins.

Loki can’t hear or see his brother or the others anymore, so they are too far away to help him. Its just so hot and so hard to think. Loki longs for a drink of water, as if that is his main priority right now.

Mentally, he slaps himself. He can’t fight his way out, but he can buy himself some time. With effort, he summons the dagger from the eye of the first beast he’d slain and jabs it into this creatures neck and slits its throat, gasping and ignoring the hot blood that bubbles his skin.

He has seconds before another beast finds him, so he concentrates all his will and shifts his protesting body into one of the creatures. His bones grow and bend and reshape themselves, the heat becoming that much more bearable than what it was in his Aesir skin, but it still boils him alive.

Picking himself up, Loki drunkenly stumbles away from the regrouping pack of beasts and sets off in the direction he thinks he saw the others go. He doesn’t know how long he carries on through sheer force of will, before he finds a cave that's stone walls aren’t red hot and merely uncomfortably warm.

He’s exhausted and decides this is as good a place as any to rest, dropping like a sack of bricks to the floor near the rear of the cave, where it is as cool as any Muspelheim cave is going to get. He finds himself laying there in his normal skin not too long after.

He’s so, so hot and he doesn’t know how he isn’t ash yet. His blood boils and burns, skin inflamed and ugly around his many burns and injuries. His seidr responds to his call sluggishly because he just can’t think through the heat melting his brain matter.

He lifts a hand to his face, finding it burnt red and black, bleeding from the heat cracking his skin and melting his flesh on his bones. It hurts like nothing he can compare it to. What _would_ one compare boiling alive to?

He drifts in and out of consciousness, heart beating rapidly then almost not at all in rapid intervals. Smoke and ash coat the inside of his dry mouth and throat, scratching his swollen lungs and clogging them up. He shivers and a hysterical laugh croaks out from his abused throat.

Shivering! He’s shivering and he’s burning alive at the same time! He thinks to himself deliriously. Sometimes he thinks he can hear the voices of his family, or see them in the corner of his eye, but whenever he tries to look they’ve vanished.

Paranoia grows heavy in his gut, which surely by now is nothing more than a shriveled crisp of innards. Where are his family? Why are they playing these games on him? Why will they not let him see them? Do they just wish to see him suffer?!

Loki wants to cry, but there’s no moisture left anywhere in his body and he can swear that he hears and feels his skin break and crack and bleed every time he moves.

Then the heat he had sort of grown used to increases tenfold and he thinks the cave is getting pinker as the second's tick by. His heart stutters in his chest, struggling to push the burning blood through his body before it kind of just… stops.

Loki can barely move his eyes, but he realizes what’s happened when he tries to take a breath and just _can’t_. There’s no blood rushing past his ears in the panic that follows as he tries desperately to draw breath and have precious air flow through his body. His vision grows black and his chest aches and burns and is ripped open all at once. He can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, he feels _cold_ but the burning is still stabbing through his skin and sizzling his blood and he doesn’t really understand before his mind starts to numb and-

… _there is nothing._

Loki blinks his eyes upon an unknown amount of time later, breathing deeply and staring uncomprehendingly at the cave ceiling. After a while, he stumbles to his feet, slipping on something that _looks_ a lot like ice but couldn’t be, because this was _Muspelheim_. Ice didn’t _exist_ in this Norns damned realm. He shakes his head and stumbles towards the mouth of the cave. No, he’s just hallucinating things again.

He wanders aimlessly away from the cave, though Loki can’t remember why he was there in the first place. He’s burning again, but his blood doesn’t seem to be evaporating inside his veins anymore, which is a welcome change.

The next thing Loki knows, he’s tripped and fallen onto the scalding ground once again. He presses his horribly charred palms to the stone and attempts to push himself to his feet. It’s just as he’s done so that a whirl of colours engulfs him and whisks him away.

He lands harshly in the blinding gold of the Bifrost observatory. The ambient temperature drops and his stomach churns, forcing him to his knees as the room spins and blurs. Everything is still burning, and the normally cool floor hurts almost as much as the hot stone on Muspelheim did. He cries out and tries to shift away when hands touch him and ignite agony throughout his whole body. Through it all, he just manages to catch Thor’s voice among his confusion.

“Brother!” He shouts, looking horrified and concerned, but Loki can barely look at him.

“You left me there.” He barely whispers, but his words cause all chatter of the guards and healers to cease as they stare at him. “ _You left me there_ ,” Loki repeats, before his eyes roll and he falls to his side with a thud into blissful unconsciousness.

When Loki wakes next, he feels much better. He’s warm, but not painfully so anymore. A quick look down at himself shows his wounds have been healed, though when he examines he palms he finds the skin as it ever was, though the creases in on his palms are slightly warped from what they used to be.

Dropping his hand, Loki lets his eyes rove around the room and he finally notices who is in the room with him. Instantly, he stiffens.

Thor’s expression is downturned with sorrow, but Loki feels no pity for him, not after what had just happened.

“It is good to see you awake, brother.” Thor’s voice is unusually soft, but Loki doesn’t care. He just stares at Thor and waits for an apology he will not beg for but deserves and wants nonetheless. If Thor does not offer one, then Loki will not ask, but he will remember.

“How long have I been here?” Loki asks when no apology is forthcoming, deeply burying his fury and hurt with the rest.

Thor fidgets, which is unusual behavior for him. “A little over a moon cycle. The healers say your injuries were severe, and they are baffled as to why you reacted so extremely to the heat when we were more or less fine.” He pauses to take a breath. “You woke a few times, but you weren’t speaking sense. Eir said your wounds were infected and you were injected with an acid poison twice. You were suffering delusions.”

Loki says nothing, staring at Thor without inflection in his expression.

“…You were lucky to have survived.”

Loki hears the door open and someone enters, but the rage that suddenly explodes from him means he cannot truly care who it is.

“No thanks to you, you witless oaf! You left me to die! _YOU LEFT ME THERE!_ I told you we were outnumbered, and you _laughed_ at the _challenge_! Then when your blasted cronies finally saw sense, they had to force you from the battle and drag you away! Not one thought did you spare for your brother whom you forcibly dragged along on that _stupid_ quest for another blasted trophy to brag about to tavern wenches you intend to bed that night!”

Loki’s breathing is harsh with rage, and he thinks he hears someone gasp, but he doesn’t care, he’s _betrayed_ and _hurt_ that his brother left him behind. Tears of pain and rage sting his eyes as he continues.

“You didn’t even notice I was struggling in the heat! Not once did you check on me! I could have been dead before we even reached those creatures and you would never have even noticed until you suddenly had need of my seidr to save your oh so glorious hides!

“How dare you stand there and be concerned for me _now_ , when there is no danger. You do not even have the decency to offer any sort of apology, no matter how useless it may be. Your regret is useless here because it is your fault it is there. _You left me to die and I will never forgive you for that the rest of my days_.” Loki spits with pure venom, lightheaded with his rage.

“Thor…” He hears his mother breath out, horror lacing her tone. Both of the brothers both turn their heads to see Frigga and Odin standing in front of the closed door.

Odin looks thunderous as he glares at Thor, face red and eye nearly bulging, but it is his mother that speaks. “Is that true? You left Loki behind?” Tears gather in her eyes and suddenly all of Loki’s rage falls away because he’s suddenly desperate for his mother, feeling much like he had when… well.

“Mamma…” Loki barely breathes the word but Frigga’s attention instantly snaps to him and she rushes over, horror at Thor’s actions and apparent lies forgotten as she gathers her youngest son into her arms. Loki feels her breath into his hair, a sob catching in her throat. Loki hugs her back just as tightly, allowing himself this moment of weakness to hide his face against her chest, fingers twisting the folds of her soft blue gown.

Distantly, Loki hears Odin yelling at Thor for lying to him about what happened on that quest, but Loki will worry about that later. Right now, his Mamma is holding him close and rocking them back and forth, smoothing his hair back over and over, rubbing his back and whispering apologies and comforting nonsense to him as he is finally able to try and process what’s happened to him.

Later he will worry about what comes next, but right now his Mamma is protecting him from the rest of the Nine and allowing him the time he needs to sort his jumbled thoughts into order.

Right now, he is safe and his shadow is no longer burning under Thor’s dangerous sunlight.


End file.
